Past and Present
by Omamori
Summary: Cinna's reason for joining the rebellion runs much deeper than the Hunger games...   What was his story?  What is his fate?  Finishes between Catching Fire and Mockingbird.  Rated T for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, here's my first go at a Hunger Games story. I hope you enjoy. Please review!**

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Past and Present

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My father thought my mother's past was something to be ashamed of.

My mother thought it was something to be proud of.

My sister thought it was cool, but not in front of friends.

Me? Well, I just don't know...

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_Flashback_

"_Cinna," said mum, softly, "come over here, I want to tell you about my past."_

"_Your past?" I asked as I jumped up onto her knee._

"_Yes, love, and it's your past too."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Just listen to the story, Cinna."_

_And with that, I curled up onto her knee and let my mother's bird-like voice lift me to a world where a story heightened your senses. Where you can touch, smell, see, feel, and taste every little thing in the world my mother painted._

"_Your grandparents, my parents, where good people, Cinna, they were wonderful, both of them. My mother's voice could halt even the best trained Jabberjay, and my father's strength was more than any other in the district-"_

"_-Which district?"_

"_Don't interrupt. District 13, love, they came from District 13. My mother was called Arianne, I don't know exactly why, mother always used to say that my great grandmother had chosen it because it was an old name. Older than Panem."_

"_Older than Panem? Then where did she find it?"_

"_I honestly don't know, Cinna. Now, where was I? Ah yes..._

"_She had long black hair like mine and deep, sea-blue eyes with your golden flecks that always made her look as timeless as the Universe. She was of medium height, and had full lips with a little nose. She spent her life smiling, she always said: 'frowning creates frown-lines. And frown-lines are unladylike.' At least, that's what she said whenever I had a tantrum. Her voice was musical, Jabberjays and Mockingjays alike stopped to her here speak, let alone sing. When she opened herself to a melody it felt as if the whole of Panem stopped to hear her. She always wanted to live life to its full, and that why she helped the people of District 13 before it was destroyed."_

"_You mean, she joined the rebellion?"_

"_Yes, but don't let your father hear you saying that._

"_sMy father was called Nolan, Chariot fighter, Champion, and it fitted him right down to the bone. He hated losing, win and he'd be teasing you for hours, lose and he would get himself into a drunken stupor and shout himself silly. He was a strong man, the strongest, he would carry me round and round District 12 when I was young, and, of course, you as well, before he passed away. He was always laughing, and always winning. Weight lifting, Shooting, Hunting, Swimming, Building, Cooking, Baking, Cleaning, Dancing, Singing, Fighting, Painting you name it, I'm betting he could do it. He was brilliant at everything he tried."_

"_What did he look like, mum?"_

"_He was tall, built to fight, with ginger hair, matching his fiery temper, and soft green eyes. He had a wide mouth that he wasn't afraid to use, he would talk for hours on end, give him a topic and he could start a full-scale debate. He was a loud man, but a friendly one, everyone in District 13, and then District 12 was his friend, he used to go round in rowdy groups, singing drunken songs, and laughing until he pulled himself through the door. His voice was deep and strong; if he spoke you couldn't help but listen for anything you said would be drowned out by the sheer volume. My mother was the only person he would stop for. To hear her sing and smile and laugh, he would do anything._

"_They joined the rebellion to help people, they saw the Capitol as wrong, like so many others in District 13, their jobs where clear: my mother stayed in the District looking after children, healing the wounded and keeping peoples' spirits up. My father fought on the front line when the time came, he marched forward with battle cries filling the air. He fought for days and hardly ever sustained an injury, but when he did, he would fight until he could fight no more. Until he had to be carried back to the makeshift hospital. To my mother._

"_Of course, you know what happened to District 13, how the Capitol dropped bombs onto it and obliterated the whole place. My mother and father where at the hospital when it started, they were uninjured, and everyone in there ordered them to go. After all, my mother was pregnant with me and she would never leave without my father. They fled their home, everything they knew, as the bomb got dropped on the hospital. I don't know my parents' reaction, though I can guess. I expect my mother stood there numbly and cried, watching the hospital crumble to the ground, not a survivor left inside. The wreckage would have gone on for as far as the eye could see, a barren wasteland, smouldering mounds of things that were ones buildings. Some of the mounds where still on fire, the flames licking upwards towards the sky; curling away into the ash clouds above. Creating the only light in a deadened world._

"_They fled to District 12, settling down as a miner and his wife. They had no trouble from Peacekeepers because they were never recognised. They were incognito, you know what that means, Cinna? It basically means that no one knew who they where, they disguised themselves in the flow of the Seam. Everyone in the Capitol thought that all from District 13 were dead, they never dreamed that my parents survived. They never dreamed that they would raise a family. That one day, the child of two District 13 survivors would be in the Capitol itself, living among them._

"_When I was young, I miraculously managed to escape the Reaping, though I had to watch some of my closest friend walk shakily up onto that dreaded platform. Watch them die on the television screen in front of me. I remember that I used to sit there, my head buried in my arms, my eyes shut tight, my ears blocked; desperately trying to stop the sounds come through. Taliyah's scream forever resonates through my ear." Mum had to wipe a tear away from her eye as she recalled the painful memory. "Tal was my best friend, always there for me, when she was picked I nearly ran up there and shoved her back!"_

"_What stopped you?"_

"_Another of my friends, Kalista, held me back, refused to let me run to her."_

"_Why?"_

"_Kal saw me sacrificing myself as a pointless venture and wouldn't allow it to happen. I don't hate her for what she did, in fact I love her, she probably saved my life. She _definitely_ saved my sanity. When Tal died it was the first time I ever actually saw a death; her scream made me look up. She was lying on the ground in the middle of a forest. Beautiful little tiger cubs surrounded her."_

"_Tiger's are beautiful?"_

"_They were Tiger _cubs_, and anyway, cubs generally don't try and hurt people. These tigers were Mutts, crosses between Tigers and something a lot more dangerous. And poisonous. That's how she died: poison. She managed to get rid of the Mutts with the help of an ally from District 6, who eventually won the games, but one of the beasts had poisoned her and she died slowly in the other girl's arms." Now mum was really crying, tears flowing in a waterfall down her face._

"_You don't have to carry on, mum." She just smiled._

"_I met your father when I was sixteen, and of course you know the rest. How he managed to get a job with the Gamemakers last year. I'm proud of him, I really am..."_

"_But..."_

"_But without the Gamemakers no one would die, and I can't forget that fact. Every time I see Gene all I can here is Tal's scream. Her last sound." My mother's voice trailed off and I hugged her hard._

_Flashback End_

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I'd only been about eight back then. Hadn't really understood what she'd been saying. That was until she was dragged away by the Peacekeepers for treason. She'd joined the rebellion, she'd told me the night before they came why, it was because she couldn't forgive them for what they'd done, how they'd burned down District 13, how they'd watched Taliyah die and enjoyed the pain. It was odd; my mother could never stay angry for long; if I did something wrong and set her off, she would calm down in a matter of minutes, I had no idea that she'd been holding in all that anger, all that pain for so long. So long that she'd finally joined the rebellion.

So long that today, I had to watch my mother die.

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**I hope you enjoyed, I'll try and update soon ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope you enjoy. Please review (pretty please with chocolate sprinkles on top)**

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She's still holding her head up, even as she stands in front of the crowds, in front of the cameras. Her eyes scan the people watching until she sees me, I must look devastated or something because her face softens and she smiles slightly. Mum... why did you do it?

She'd snuck into one of the offices late at night, vandalism they said, something that only someone without a straight mind would do. I can guess what she wrote on the walls, and I think she's right. They're a lot of idiots: selfish, supercilious, vainglorious, conceited, pompous idiots.

I look up at the stage, tears threatening to make tracks down my face, but I mustn't cry, I can't.

Peacekeepers are holding a gun to the side of her head, a sleek silver thing. _Peacekeepers, _how I hate them.

The shot rings through the square and people cheer, loud, deafening shouts. Didn't they care? Didn't they care that she was my mother? Did they care that my sister would cry herself to sleep tonight? No. All they cared about was the latest fashion. How soon until those cruel games would start again.

I can't look up to the stage, but everywhere I do turn there's a screen showing the bloody mess of- of-

I leave the square, hurrying down alleyways until I find a deserted spot. I crumpled to the ground, finally letting the tears spill out of my eyes. I'm only fifteen, I shouldn't have to see things like that, it's not fair. Why me? Why _her?_ She was only doing what she thought was right.

I try to block out the world around me, I want to curl into a ball and never move again, I want to die here, tonight, but I can't, for my sister's sake, for my _mother's,_ I have to keep living. Little Pori needed me, my little sister, I can't leave her, and it's for her sake that I wiped the tears from my eyes and dragged myself to my feet.

The crowds have dispersed from the square, I'm not even entirely sure why I went back. I let familiar movement usurp the steps I took and I tried to avoid looking at the stage until I could bear it no longer.

They'd taken her body, but the red patterns still swirl over its metal surface, creating spirals that spin towards the edges of the elevated block. The blood was still bright red, still fresh, and I could see her face in my mind's eye, her last smile.

Next thing I know I've turned on my heels and I'm practically running back towards the house. Why had my father made me watch that? Was it because he knew I agreed with my mother? Did he want to show me what happened to rebels? Well, if that was the reason, it didn't work. Now I want to bring down the Capitol even more.

My father. A lot of people say he's a good man, but those people are from the capitol. My father is a Gamemaker, a stupid Gamemaker. He got the job when I was just seven and before we knew it we'd packed up and left District 12.

I paused to think about my previous home, the place where children were sent to be sacrificed to the hungry members of the Capitol. How many friends had I seen die in that arena? Little Poppy, only two years ago, she'd been twelve when her name had been called, and one night in Poppy had made her way out.

And, of course, there was Jude, Kat, Den, Irri, Lin, Harri, Josie, Nats, Ker, George, Ceir and Fin, and that's only for starters, that's only my best friends.

Why do the people of the Capitol enjoy this so much?

I stumbled into the front door and made my way to my room. My father wasn't home yet, thank god, and I flung myself onto my bed without any disturbance.

I must have been there for at least two hours, crying until I could cry no more. I never made a sound; I mourned in silence.

When my father came home he immediately came to my room, opening the door in a loud sweep of drunkenness. He must have been out at the pub, which meant he'd be even more insufferable.

"What was it like?" Straight away, he was talking about- well, you can guess.

Tears threatened to come again, but I bit my tongue and held them in; if there was one thing my father hated more than the long list of other things he hated, it was crying. He saw it as a weakness, a way to show people that you were nothing.

"Well?" I knew I wouldn't be able to hold of this conversation forever, but it didn't mean I wasn't going to try.

"What do you think?" I was glad that my voice didn't crack or waver, that father couldn't tell that I'd been crying.

"I want to hear it from your mouth." I gritted my teeth as I thought of a way out.

"Why don't you watch it for yourself?" I resisted the urge to snap at him, to throw all of my hate and anger and frustration at him.

Father sighed; he could see he wasn't going to get the details from me.

"Do you still think what your stupid Grandparents, and your mother, did was right?"

I looked him in the eyes, and I could tell what he would do if I said 'yes'. Sometimes it's better to lie.

"No, father, I don't think it was right."

I sat on the bed, hand balled into fists, fighting the urge to hit him, kick him, anything to get rid of my anger.

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That was six years ago, and I never forgave my father for what he made me do. Never.

And I never forgot having to watch mum-

I still can't say it, even now. I still can't come to grips with what happened. And I don't think I ever will. I mean, it's not every day you have to watch your mother die.

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**Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, here goes Chapter 3. Hope you enjoy. And thanks for the review.**

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The door was a bright white. Well, I think it was a door, some 'doors' where just projections that you could walk straight through. I think they put them there just to make fun of people who reach out to grasp the handle. God, know I'm _sure_ it's fake, my sister would never pass a chance to laugh at me.

I scrutinized the edges of the door carefully, looking for the telltale smudges. The edges faded and smudged ever so lightly, it was less obvious than on most doors, she really had been sparing no expense on trying to trick me.

I walked straight forwards, I would have hit the door if it had been real, but instead I just walked straight through it and into the hallway inside. My sister came through to greet me.

"It's polite to knock first."

"Hmmm. _That's_ possible(!)"

Pori huffed and gestured for me to follow her into what I expected was the living room. She'd left as soon as she turned eighteen, a year ago, she'd decided to leave when she was thirteen, though, obviously, it was illegal for her to leave back then. The reason she wanted to leave? Simple: Mum. She'd been thirteen when they executed her.

The house she lived in now was simple and sweet. Well styled, though a bit on the bright side. Too much white and pale blue, though the colours used did complement each other rather well, and she hadn't used contrasting colours for her furniture (I've seen it before), which was good because when people do that it destroys and hard work they've out in.

Listen to me! I sound like a stupid critic.

"It's not much."

"It's more stylish than dad's."

We looked at each other and our minds drifted back to our old homes, and before we knew it we were folding up laughing, clutching at our sides as if they were about to split.

"I-I wonder, d-does he still have th-those neon-pink curtains?" choked out Pori.

"Y-yeah! And those red and blue striped armchairs! If he still has those-" We squealed with laughter, unable to get another word out.

After many minutes of calming down, wiping the tears away, looking at each other, and cracking up again, we finally managed to get on a straight face and stay that way.

"Mum was always telling him: 'NO! Don't put that green carpet with that orange wallpaper!' or 'Not that, Gene, it's disgusting!'" Pori smiled, looking so much like she did back when she was twelve. This was the first time she'd smiled since six years ago. It's amazing what one offhand comment can do. "I'll go get us some tea." And with that she left the room to the (presumed) kitchen.

She came back in as I was examining some of the ornaments on one of her cream shelves. "Does dad still think you hate the rebellion?" She enquired, tilting her head to the side at me after setting two mugs onto the glass coffee table.

"What do you think?" I sighed. "He's even trying to get me a job as a stylist."

"Why don't you say no?" I looked at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"_Dad's_ getting me the job. Y'know, Perry? _Dad? _The idiot who never takes no as an answer?"

She smiled. "Still. You could do really bad designs, then they wouldn't let you in, even _if_ dad's a damn Gamemaker."

"I won't do that and you know it. Anyway, I might be able to help the rebellion somehow; after all, I'll be on the inside, won't I?"

"What district then?"

"Twelve, they've got their eyes on a young girl down there, and if she's dragged into the games someone's gotta get her as many sponsors as possible. I've heard she's a pretty good survivor, but the guys still want her to get as much help as possible."

She nodded slowly. "How you gonna make coal-miners unforgettable?"

"Who said they were gonna be coal-miners?" I smirked, pulling my sketchbook from my bag and showing her a few of my best designs (even if I do say so myself). I smiled as her eyes widened in disbelief.

"They certainly are unforgettable." She murmured. "But are they possible?"

I looked at the flames that seemed to lick round the edges of the page. "Not yet. I'm working on it, I've got them to stop burning, but they're the wrong colour."

"What colour are they?"

"Green."

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I got the call half an hour later.

"Cinna?"

"Yes?" Pori looked up with a questioning look.

"Look, we're in a bit of a pickle here." I focused back onto the voice. "Han has been found out, we're one down. You know anyone to replace her?"

I smiled slightly. "I think so... Pori, it's for you."

She blinked slowly, but reached out to take the phone. I watched as her eyes widened and she realised what I was getting her into. I know I should protect my little sister better, but this is what she wanted, and I know it. I want her to be able to choose what happens in her life, I don't want to hold her back just because I've become an overprotective jerk since mum died.

"Yeah. Umm, ok, I'll do it." She handed the phone back to me, and smiled gratefully. She was in, she was where she wanted to be.

"She seems like a good choice, Cinna. Sure you want her to do this? I mean, she is your sister after all."

"Yeah."

"Good. Then, bye."

And with that the line went dead. I snapped the mobile shut and grinned at Pori.

"Well, I'd better be off, don't want to be late and miss my slot in this year's games." I turned and headed towards the front 'door'.

"Bye then. Oh, and Cinna, you're not an overprotective jerk."

I blinked. Was my sister physic now?

She laughed. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Now, you'd better go!"

I shook my head. I must be imagining things, speaking out loud and not realising. I hurried out slipping my sketchpad into my bag and ignoring my sister's fit of giggles "That's exactly what you were doing, and are doing, psycho!"

Yeah. I'm speaking out loud and not realising it.

And then the laughter was cut short with a little gasp.

"Pori?"

"CINNA!" She screamed. "CINNA! HELP!"

"PORI!"

"Nothing to see. Move along please." Said the Peacekeeper dragging my sister. He pulled my sister down the road, two other Peacekeepers helping.

"PORI!" I tried to follow but another Peacekeeper grabbed me from behind. "LET ME GO! PORI! LEAVE HER ALONE!" I struggled and kicked, tears rolling down my cheeks. Down the road I could see Pori doing the same.

"HELP ME! CINNA!" It's my fault. I should never have given her that phone.

"PLEASE! PORI, PLEASE!" But, if they had her for the phone call, why weren't they dragging me away too? "PORI!"

The Peacekeeper slammed a hand over my mouth just as my sister was removed from my view. "She's a traitor. Cinna, is it? She's been betraying the capitol. She practically stopped all work in the prisons the other day, and helped over one hundred prisoners escape.

I slumped into his arms, too tired to keep fighting. It's my fault, I got into her head that she could be a hero. My, damn, fault. _Pori..._

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**Well, I hoped you enjoyed. Constructive Criticism welcome, and 'well done's' too. But no flames please.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry it's been so long...**

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I don't know how I got home; all I can remember is Pori's face, that terror, when they pulled her away.

I slumped onto my bed and gazed round my room, not really taking anything in. Not my leaf green wallpaper, nor my autumn red desk, nor my wardrobe, still its original wooden colour. I'd styled my room for the forest, my mother's favourite place when she was young, and it was amazing how colours that's would clash if used at their full brightness melted together harmoniously when you dulled them down slightly.

I opened my sketchpad and moved my eyes over the drawings lightly. Even if my sister was captured, or dead, I was still going for that job, and I was going to get it.

I gathered up a few scraps of fabric and made one last attempt with my fire, sprinkling the powder onto them and sparing them so they set alight.

Orange, thank god.

I picked up the successful powder, the spray, my sketchpad and a few bit of fabric.

Here goes nothing, I thought, knowing that Pori would want me to do this, not to give up because of her.

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There were five men and women in front of me, and the way they eyed me was like a sheep that had been led in for the slaughter. Not that I really know what a sheep is, but still.

I don't think they liked the way I dressed, or the absence of any dies or piercings. I noticed a man look up into my eyes and I could read the thought so easily that would be running through his head; _How did he get that done? _ You see, despite the fact that the Capitol can change pretty much anything about a person, the eyes are still a mystery and the best they can do is change them from blue to brow or otherwise. Not multicoloured, and, most definitely, not green with gold flecks in.

Said man cleared his voice and spoke, "So, umm..."

"Cinna."

"So, Cinna, how've you done your eyes?" Straight off the subject, these Capitol people really are all alike.

"It's natural." I noticed one or two murmur at my comment, either they didn't believe me or they didn't like the fact that _everything_ about me was natural. The Capitol folk really do stamp on my every last nerve.

"So, why do you think you're right for this job?" Asked a woman in the back row, her face was pinched and bright blue. All I could think at that moment was how much it clashed with the pink wallpaper behind her. I mentally shook myself, now was not the time to come across as a loony.

"Because I think I can change the way people look at the district I work on forever." I stated. No fancy parlour tricks or explosions of smoke that I heard the other candidates did. Just plain me.

"And how are you going to do that." She asked mildly, evidently thinking my designs were going to be exactly the same as what I looked like on the outside. Boring, if you were to judge through their eyes.

"With this." I said and pulled out my fabric. Now was the time for _my _parlour trick. I sprinkled some powder onto it and sprayed them, smiling as the bright orange flames licked upwards.

I saw a few judges raising their eyebrows.

"But won't that burn?" I just smirked and put my hand right in the centre of the flame, before picking the fabric up and spraying it with my other chemical to get rid of the flames.

I looked up and caught the eye of s judge who had his mouth hanging open in shock, I couldn't help but compare him to some pictures of goldfish I'd seen before.

"Right, umm, well, let's see your designs." I pulled out my sketchbook and held it out to the judge. I fidgeted uncomfortably as the men and women murmured amongst themselves for what seemed like an eternity.

"I can't really see which district these would work for, though, I'm afraid Cinna." Said the first man, eying me up and down, "Which one did you have in mind?"

"District twelve." I couldn't see why a few of the judges raised their eyebrows. I mean, sure, it's a rundown place, last of the line sort of thing, but it was still a district and it was going to be unforgettable. And it was my old home, and I still felt some ties to it, after seeing a few old friends cry on the screen as their son or daughter is called to come forward. And that son or daughter never makes it home, that's the worst thing. And if I get in I have to make sure that Katniss Evergreen does _not _die.

"Well, you could do a lot with a different district, are you sure-?"

"Quite sure," I said, cutting him off.

"Well, alright, but on one condition." I tilted my head to the side enquiringly, "You look too normal, change something." As I walked out and they could no longer see my face, I rolled my eyes, I'd been expecting it but it didn't seem any less annoying.

And, well, I guess I've trumped them here, they'll be expecting me to turn purple or something, but they said change _something, _not _something dramatic, _I'll just invest in something like, why, like gold eyeliner for instance. I can't wait to see their faces!

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**Cinna: Thanks for writing me as a reckless idiot(!)  
Me: Well you are!  
Cinna: Yeah, course(!)  
Me: Who turned Katniss into a Bluejay?  
Cinna: That hasn't happened yet, but I see your point.  
Me: *Smirk* Well, anyway, please review. I would say no flames but that means I'd have to get rid of Cinna. *looks round* WOULD YOU PUT THAT OUT?**


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